


Pilot Light

by Cerusee



Series: #BatfamContentWar [1]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: #batfamcontentwar, always did want to make these two talk, it's all audrey, robin!jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 21:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerusee/pseuds/Cerusee
Summary: Jason and Jim have a chat about tires.





	Pilot Light

“You know,” Jim said, lighting a cigarette, “I always did wonder where he found you two.”

“Us two?” Robin crossed his arms.

“Don’t try to play me, kid,” Jim said, taking a puff. “I know you’re not the first Robin. You may be the _size_ he was, back when he first started, but that was ten years ago. And I know that kids don’t actually shrink in the wash.”

“I’m not a kid,” Robin said, as grouchy as any child ever was.

Jim snorted. “I’m a father, Robin. And you’re definitely a kid.”

“Fine.” Robin shrugged, the motion causing the yellow cape to swirl slightly. “I’m a kid. _Grandpa_.”

Jim noticed that Robin kept eying his cigarette. Well, he thought he was, anyway. That mask made it hard to tell, but based on the angle of his neck, it seemed likely. He wasn’t sure if Robin was even doing it on purpose. He jokingly waggled the pack at him. “See something you like?”

“Nah,” Robin said, lightly. “I quit when I picked up _this_ gig.” But Jim could hear the longing in his voice. “Can’t do that and do all this cardio, too, you know.”

“Shit, kid,” Jim said, startled. He stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it off the roof. “I’m sorry. Wouldn’t have smoked in front of you if I’d known.”

“Thanks,” Robin said, rueful. “It fucking sucks. I miss it all the time. I only smoked for a couple of years, but I can still….” he trailed off.

“Christ, you’re just a kid.”

“You wanted to know where he got me,” Robin said, distantly. “He picked me up in Crime Alley.”

Jim stiffened.

“Oh for God’s sake, not like _that_ ,” Robin said, and Jim would bet ten bucks he was rolling his eyes behind that domino. “I lifted his tires.”

“Excuse me?” Jim said. “What did you do, steal the wheels off the Batmobile?”

“Yup,” Robin said, blandly.

“Are you screwing with me, kid?”

“No. Ask him yourself. I got a whole three off, and I was coming back for the fourth when he came back and caught me red-handed.”

“And then, after that, Batman made you Robin?”

Robin grinned, his face split from ear to ear with the biggest smile Jim had ever seen. “And after that, Batman made me Robin.”

“I guess you impressed him.”

“Guess I did.”

“I have to hand it to you, Robin, that’s just about the ballsiest thing I’ve ever heard someone do.”

“Thanks,” Robin said. 

Robin I probably would have made a theatrical little bow at that point. That kid sure had loved to play to an audience. Robin II drew his cape around himself and leaned forward onto the roof’s edge. He was looking off towards the city skyline. “If I pulled it off, I knew I’d get a shit-ton of cash for them. They were great tires, Commish. Batman only has the best; I could tell that from looking at them. I could have sold any of them for hundreds a pop.”

Something occurred to Jim. “You said you went back for the fourth.”

“Yeah. I was hoping to get the full set. I could have sold them for so much more if I had.”

“You were taking a huge risk,” Jim said, thinking his way through it. “You had no idea how long Batman would be gone. If you were smart, you would have stopped at two or three. You could have lived on that money—am I wrong, here?—you could have lived on that money for months. But you went back for the last one. You went back, knowing you could get caught if you did.”

“Yeah,” Robin said again, stretching his arms out over the roof’s wall, and cracking his back.

“Why would you take that risk?”

“I needed money to live,” Robin said, plainly. “And by the way, I’m good now, thanks for asking.”

“I assumed,” Jim said, dryly.

“If you’re boosting tires,” Robin said, turning back towards Jim, and leaning casually against the wall, “there’s a lot of different targets. Some of them are safe, some of them aren’t. Boost from a dealer who works where you do, it’s gonna follow you home, it’s gonna come your way again. Strays are safe. It’s fine to steal from a visitor. They don’t know what’s going on, or who to talk to or where to look. And then there was—” Robin stopped, and seemed to savor the name, “—Batman.”

“The ultimate score, huh?,” Jim said. “Counting coup on the big, bad, Batman?”

Robin turned away again, and sat down, dangling his arms over the edge of the GCPD roof, before he folded them up and rested his chin on them. “No,” he said. “I just knew that even if he caught me stealing his tires, Batman wouldn’t kill me.”


End file.
